


Transcendent

by Suzume



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Dreams, F/F, Female Friendship, Illustrated, Magic, Post-Series, Signs and Symbols, Spiritual, Surreal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/pseuds/Suzume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homura has doubts.  Madoka won't leave her to suffer them in silence.  The same goes for her desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transcendent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ember_Keelty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember_Keelty/gifts).



> The prompt requested, "Saint Theresa-style smut. Basically: Homura having sweet, loving, incredibly surrealistic symbolic sex with God." I absolutely loved the prompt, so I hope that I was able to do it some degree of justice!
> 
> This story might or might not fall into continuity with my other post-series fic [Apostle](http://archiveofourown.org/works/259327). I'm not entirely sure, so I'll leave that up to the reader.

"The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God."  
Teresa of Avila

 

At first, when Homura told herself she wasn't alone, she had doubts. Certainly Madoka was still out there, she still existed, but she was _God_ now. If that meant what she thought it did, based on her own passing experiences with religion and what Kyoko said (sometimes bitter and sometimes fond) and what Madoka herself had told her, well, Madoka was busy now. All at once she was everywhere at all times, and in everything. ...If that were true, how did she have time for Homura?

"You're stronger than this," she told herself, lying on her stomach on her bed, tears running from her violet eyes to leave gray stains on her pillow. "You believed in yourself- that you could get stronger, that eventually you could save her. Well, believe in her now."

Maybe it was easier to believe in her own abilities because they were visible, measurable. But real faith pivoted on things unseen.

"If I'm so strong, I can walk forever on my own path. ...As long as I believe."

And in the meantime, there were so many little things to think of and deal with. Time didn't stop just because Madoka had ascended to a higher plane. There were still classes and schoolwork and friends and the everyday matters of living demanding her attention. What was the saying? "Fake it until you make it?" Homura dried her tears on her sleeve. She knew she had it within herself to be patient. She would move forward. She would see how things went.

 

She dreamt about Madoka. The dream was so vivid she hated to get up, but her alarm clock was just about to start buzzing (as usual, she had beaten it up). Homura reached over and shut it off, swinging her feet over the side of the mattress and stepping onto the cold floor.

She tried to think about her dream to keep it slipping from her mind, pausing to scribble a few notes about it down between brushing her teeth and fixing her hair. Writing your dreams down was supposed to help you remember them. Of course, she didn't think the warmth of Madoka's body, curled up in bed with her wouldn't be easy to forget. And it hadn't just been warmth really. There was the scent of her shampoo coming off her hair and the gentle pressure where she had pressed against Homura's back.

Homura picked up her toothbrush and raised it toward her mouth, pausing just as the bristles touched her teeth. Had she... Had she just seen something pink reflected in the mirror out of the corner of her eye? ...The last trailing tip of a pink pigtail?

Homura finished with her teeth. It was wishful thinking. She dismissed it.

 

On her walk to school, she was left with the distinct impression that, despite the lack of any noticeable breeze, the flowers in their planters were bending toward specifically toward her, like sunflowers chasing the sun for sustenance. It was a peculiar motion.

She tested her hypothesis that she was the actual focus of these movements first by stopping. The flowers held their positions around her. She took a slow step backward, then another and another. The flowers followed her then as well.

How bizarre! It was like she was the heroine of an animated film, or perhaps Alice in Wonderland. This was the sort of thing that happened within the pockets of magic that enveloped their battles with demons, not on an ordinary stroll from the train station to the school gates.

It was not until she thought about the _why_ of the situation that Homura began to feel a twinge of hope.

 

"Has anything _weird_ happened to either of you lately?" Although Homura hoped to use some conversation with Kyoko and Mami to get her bearings, she didn't want to tell them straight-out about the things she had experienced recently. She had told them some things about Madoka, but it was hard to gauge how much of it they believed and how much was just tolerating their too-serious-to-be-joking friend. "Weird is relative- I know. I'm not talking about the usual demon hunting stuff or Kyubey...just little things. Moments where the world seems to act or react in ways that don't fit the normal rules of physics, but without any obvious magical source."

"Eh, everything that happens around school is still weird to me again," Kyoko shrugged. "And it's not like I have a normal _home_ life either, really."

"If you would just agree to actually move into Mami-senpai's apartment instead of constantly sleeping over at the place for a night or two, I think that problem might be resolved," Homura suggested.

Mami just smiled. However permanent the arrangement, she enjoyed it when she didn't have to live alone.

This had to be the best world they could be given. If better had been possible, Madoka would have granted it.

The three girls traded parts of their lunches as they often did. No but Kyoko brought whole apples to school. When Homura bit the apple, her teeth breaking through the thin skin into relenting flesh with a satisfying crunch, her mouth was filled with sweet juice, and, somehow, almost hated needing to pull her lips away to chew and swallow the first bite. It was almost like she was kissing the apple and it was kissing her back.

It was good and it was strange all at once. Homura had kissed Madoka before, in a timeline she had been reluctant to lose. They had been eating melon-flavored soft serve before it happened. The flavor was different, but the sweetness and the longing had been a little like this.

Homura knew happiness and sadness were often only a breath apart. It was doubtful she would ever have such an opportunity presented to her again.

 

The nights alone in her apartment were the longest. Though Mami told her she was welcome at her place anytime she wished, sometimes that wasn't what she needed. ...Sometimes, even when it might be what she did need, it was too difficult to ask.

What was the best way to pray to Madoka?

She folded her hands and stared at the night sky beyond her half-drawn curtains. The moon and stars were obscured by dark clouds. It was a small blow. Homura had hoped they would serve as a focus for her lovesick and lonely intentions. She would have to settle for something internal to center herself on. She thought about meditation, but didn’t straighten up into a serious pose. Madoka wasn’t the type to insist on any formalities. “Madoka,” she thought, “I miss you. Everything about you.”

For a moment, her attention faltered. She blinked her eyes. ...Had she fallen asleep for a minute or two?

The clouds had parted now, hovering around the outskirts of the city at the edge of her vision, having taken on a vaguely pink tinge. Strange how even such darkness could appear in varied shades. The stars were as bright as if there wasn't even a single speck of space dust blocking their glow from reaching her. Was she really that tired, or had new constellations appeared? She was seeing a bow and a heart-shaped arrow, an out-stretched hand, a glimmering smile...

Homura laid her head down and allowed Kyubey to slip under arm and curl up beside her. She questioned what it was he got out of such an activity, but if he didn't pester her, she wouldn't complain.

Her eyelids drooped. Between eyelashes flickering lower and lower by the second, she thought she read a message in the stars: "I'm there whenever you want me."

 

The flashes of pink in the corners of her vision, the kiss from the apple, the flowers, the clouds- even if she had only dreamed or imagined the actual words in the stars- they had to be an invitation.

She was going to take it. ...Although figuring out _how_ was not immediately easy. Of course, Madoka had orchestrated all the strange and marvelous things that had happened around her thus far. Perhaps it was best simply to sit back, open herself up to the universe, and, making her desires known, allow the closer to omnipotent one in this relationship make the first move.

Homura closed her eyes. It was easier to focus that way. The dark around her lightened, rosy with the coming dawn- an artificial light, as Homura knew that when she had entered her bedroom it was only ten PM. She was pretty sure she was only _daydreaming_ \- she wasn't really asleep- but the boundary was fuzzy and getting fuzzier as the pictures within her mind shaped themselves into something clearer, more real than any daydream she had ever previously known.

The dreamscape softly focused around her, but Homura paid no more than cursory attention to her own circumstances. She saw Madoka stepping out of the pink, puffy clouds to meet her. She was just as real now as in any of Homura's memories. Although she could have wafted like a zephyr, as powerful and incorporeal as she was, Madoka preferred to walk- even when the only cushion beneath her feet was something like an illusion of stars. Homura spared a glance to see that she too was standing on this marbled, sparkling surface.

Whatever the substance, it proved not only solid enough, but also accommodating as flowers (daffodils, poppies, irises, alyssum, violets) sprung up from that strange black soil as Madoka alit, forming a living train that extended behind her already flowing gown. The dress, white and all but feather-weight, gradually thinned, turning from substantial to filmy to just a step above transparent. Madoka's body was pure and pale, glowing gently like the moon, but unobscured by any of the perfumed clouds that drifted through the air. She was beautiful and calm.

"Homura-chan," she said, and her voice was just as fragile and frail as it was when she was only a girl and not a god, though perhaps there was a tinkling of phantom bells accompanying her words.

Homura stumbled, searching for the proper way to express her heart-ful of bursting feelings.

Madoka paused her bridal procession and folded her hands, waiting to see what her most-precious-more-than-just-a-friend wanted to say to her. The growing bed of flowers continued to bloom and spread out further around her as she stood. She put Homura in mind of pictures she had seen in the past when nuns visited the hospital with their gentle words and murmured prayers- the Virgin Mary. More sensual, certainly, lighting a fire within Homura that began in her chest and radiated out to other, eager parts of her body. "I- I'm so glad," Homura stammered. In Madoka's presence, there was no need to mask her insecurities or be anything but her truest self. "I didn't know how much I could bear without seeing you. You know- before- I became strong for you. I didn't realize how much harder it would be to be strong for myself.

"Back then, everyone else could see you; they could understand what I was fighting for." Homura dipped her head and one of the tails of Madoka's red ribbon brushed against her cheek. "I'm not as solitary as I thought I was."

"Everyone needs some reassurance every now and then," Madoka agreed. "And I always needed much more than you have, Homura-chan. You shouldn't feel weak, or like you need to apologize. Being able to admit to your weakness is a sign of strength!"

"No one knows what to say like you do," Homura smiled, turning her gaze back up to meet Madoka's tranquil eyes. "No one knows me like you do.

"Oh, but," Homura noted, "It's not like the other girls don't try. Mami and Kyoko are my friends. Really, there's no one I want to know me like you."

"I know. I understand. ...And no matter how many magical girls I meet, despite how much I love the entire world, for me, Homura-chan, there's no one else like you."

"I-! I'm going to cry!" Homura protested, trying to squeeze back the tears.

Madoka held out her arms as she stepped forward, and Homura rushed toward her, throwing herself into Madoka's embrace. The tears that escaped trickled, shimmering, down her cheeks and fell, striking the ground with an almost metallic tinkling. They hadn't remained water, but had crystallized into something between diamonds and tiny stars. Madoka was just as warm as she'd remembered.

Madoka kissed her and Homura had no hesitation in hastily kissing her back. What was God supposed to taste like? Madoka tasted human.

Homura didn't notice immediately when Madoka filtered away, drifting apart like mist between her arms. She felt safe, loved. ...And light? The world around her was a pale rose tone. She felt like she was floating.

 

Oh. (Had she opened her eyes in reality or within in the dream?) She _was_ floating.

The blaze Madoka had lit within her chest was visible now, with sparks leaping out of her skin as if it were no barrier to them. Homura's clothing burned away in a gust of hot wind, which left her skin untouched, but the fire within her continued unabated. Whether the fire was her unquenchable soul or merely a particularly strong wave of passion, Madoka's touch was what she longed for to slake her fiery thirst.

She spread her legs for a gold and pink swallowtail butterfly to drift down between them as if drawn to the nectar of a flower.

Phantom fingers danced along her skin, complimenting the tiny touch of the butterfly's tongue to a most sensitive spot. The fire grew, blossoming outward, until she felt her entire body glowing red, like an ember in the night. From out of the sky, a series of waterfalls burst from the clouds. The water poured down on her, clear and cool, the change in temperature, which still could not manage to extinguish the flames within her, eliciting a gasp of surprise. The pressure pushed down on her just hard enough to cause a pleasant degree of pain and she slipped through faint halo of white clouds, as barely substantial as dandelion fluff.

A small climax shook her, with a burst of white light flashing before her eyes and the water hissing as it evaporated off her febrile form. When the brightness receded enough for Homura to see again, the light had revealed itself to be a sky filled with flashing, unreal stars. They were more like an Impressionist painting of the night than real suns burning billions of miles away. Some had five points, others six or seven.

The undying fire jumped and sparked and the stars glimmered in response. They were as bright as Madoka's most joyous smile. The heat of passion grew again as Homura's slow descent ended with her settling into a welcoming field of sweet-scented clover. The single butterfly that had tantalized her first was joined by an entire flock (Was that the right word? What did one call a group of butterflies?) They settled upon her damp skin, interacting with one another in a mute dance. The last bits of moisture had become vaguely sticky, like honey or sugar water, which must have been what had attracted all the butterflies.

Homura breathed a sigh of relief, which quickly reformed as a gasp as, with a sound like the ticking of a carefully oiled clock, the inexplicably butterfly-filled night turned into day. Beams stretched out from the rising sun. She arched her back as this penetration of her soul sent ripples out through her taunt and willing body.

She closed her eyes, practically vibrating with the growing energy inside her. It was close to too much. Close, very close, oh, there were fingers running through her hair, they were Madoka's hands - they had to be, that was her voice, offering soft, vague murmurings Homura was too close to the edge to understand; that was Madoka's scent, sweet and simple and homely. "Madoka-chan," she managed.

The most beautiful dream or daydream or visitation exploded in an orgasm of stars.

After all that, Homura's heartbeat, her heavy breath, the dimness of her bedroom- they were the part that seemed unreal.

There were no doubts left in her mind. How could there be, after she had experienced nothing less than...well, it was pretty much sex with God.

Suddenly, she felt a little shy. She should do something for Madoka. ...But what could a goddess desire from her? She laid, limp and happy on her bed, and considered Madoka's nature.

One thing came to mind.

 

"I was wrong," Homura said, raising her cool, dark eyes from her bento box to give Kyoko the full, fair measure of her attention. "Kyoko, I apologize. I've seen- well, not really _seen_ her- but I know that I'm not alone."

"Geez, Homura," Kyoko snapped out a dry, who-would-have-thought laugh, "If she's God, then _of course_ she has time for you. She can be with you always and still manage everything else in the world at the same time."

"Don't be rude, Kyoko," Mami said, soft and peaceable as usual.

"I'm not trying to- Oh," Kyoko shook her head, "Fine. Apology accepted."

Each girl directed her attention to her respective lunch, settling into their school day routine. Kyoko glanced over at what Homura was eating. "...A-are those mini kebabs in your bento?"

Homura held the plastic container out to her friend. "Have one."


End file.
